


just hold me in the dark

by liesmith



Series: stray (fake chop) [15]
Category: Cow Chop, The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Fake Chop, Frottage, M/M, grinding in a tiny closet, its 5:30 am what am i doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 10:30:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18519613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmith/pseuds/liesmith
Summary: the footsteps are gone, but his heart hasn't stopped poundingorhe has got to stop inviting khail to these things





	just hold me in the dark

“shh,” brett’s voice is soft, a little strained, hand going over khail’s mouth as they fit snugly in a coat closet. his eyes adjust slowly to the dark room, his other hand at khail’s waist and fisting a hand in the side of his shirt, the soft fabric balled tight in his grip. brett strains to listen outside the door; there’s pacing, he thinks, and there are words he can barely hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears. khail’s body is warm and pressed tight to his, breath hot against his palm. if brett wasn’t trying to keep them alive, this would be a rather nice position to be in with his pretend associate, his pretend business partner to pull one over on this skyscraper royalty that’s probably standing right outside the door, just waiting to ambush them, knows they have to be there, where else would they be, and

everything goes quiet. the footsteps stop pacing and then disappear. there’s the sound of another door closing, further away, and brett almost _whimpers_ when he realizes they’re safe, at least, for now. still, he doesn’t move his hand, or push khail away, or speak. his heart is still banging in his ears, thundering in his brain and making it harder for him to think. several more agonizingly long minutes pass before brett figures, you know what, maybe they are safe. for real, not in this moment, but maybe for a couple of moments. maybe for a half hour. maybe for the rest of the night. maybe he really duped royalty into thinking they aren’t hiding in the coat closet.

khail moves against him and brett lowers his hand, finally, palm hot and sweaty from adrenaline and khail’s breath. there’s fumbling and khail’s lifting his phone, flashlight up, and looks around the closet. he doesn’t move from brett, which brett doesn’t mind right now. the body is solid and makes brett realize he isn’t alone. the hope is enough for him right now. a quick sweeping, eyes roaming as khail moves his phone’s light around, shows that there isn’t much in here. a box or two, forgotten relics of the past, and dust bunnies. khail sets his phone down on a box near them, keeping light in the little closet.

“this is why i don’t partner with you anymore, hundar.”

“shut up,” brett’s voice is high and strung, but he’s giving a tittering sort of laugh, just as nervous as he sounds, “we’ll be fine. just… give it another minute or two. maybe… ten. maybe twenty.”

“maybe we just run, right now, and get the fuck out of here.”

“shh,” despite the nerves in his voice, the hush is soft again, and brett shifts his body weight to accommodate khail’s body, still pressed to his. that’s a minor mistake, brett realizes very quickly, when he brushes just right against khail, and the smaller body against him has a stuttery breath, and brett thinks

if this is it, truly really it, maybe he should try to enjoy his last living moments.

“khail,” brett’s voice is still soft, slowly evening out in his tone, and khail glances up at him, eyes dark and large in the low-light of the phone, “you wanna?”

they aren’t kids anymore, rubbing off on each other in a college dorm room, behind a bar, in a bar, in a bathroom, wherever they could. if they make it out, brett’s back will ache and he’ll probably have a crick somewhere in his body, and khail will complain about his knees and how cumming in his pants like a 15 year old virgin boy isn’t cool, but neither of them are saying no. khail initiates, kissing brett all sweet like he means it, and brett guesses, maybe he does. even if khail fucking hates doing this with him, hates that brett sometimes only calls him up so he can look the part of a fancy diplomat, khail means it. brett returns it with a sort of need, loneliness bubbling just under the surface as he lets his hands relax against khail’s hips, fingertips pressing enough to be the right kind of pressure that makes khail melt just a bit against him. he lines their hips up just right and brett actually _shakes_ when he feels how hard khail is against him.

yeah, they’re idiots.

brett rucks up khail’s shirt, lets his finger tips touch bare skin instead, and slides a leg against khail’s and draws him in closer. their hips move together, grinding with need. the heat is pooling in brett’s belly and his noises are muffled by khail’s lips, the kiss long forgotten, but he doesn’t want to pull away at all. he’s soaking the affection up, just like his little plants back at home, and oh god, he has to go back home for them, he can’t let them die. who will take care of them? aleksandr?

he feels khail shudder against him, but he knows he’s not done, but he knows khail’s close. it pulls brett’s mind from his plant panic and makes him focus on the body against him, the warm closet that’s just getting worse the more they move and make a fuss, and brett holds khail’s hips to his a little firmer and grinds a little more insistent, with all his need build behind it, and, yeah

brett’s the first to crack, panting out as he grinds through his orgasm, mouth back on khail’s to muffle his undignified whining. khail follows a beat after, hips tilted up and giving a shudder against brett. they stay like that for a few moments, brett catching his breath and khail just leaning into him, letting brett support his weight. if it was any other time, brett would tell him to fuck off, stop slouching and shit, but now it’s nice. he’ll never miss a weight like this against him when he chooses to get it.

“... how are we going to get out now, huh, smartass?” khail mumbles, voice a little thick with exhaustion. fuck, they’re old. brett just laughs, head hitting the back of the closet as he closes his eyes, petting over khail’s hips and lower tummy, making the body wiggle out of the ticklish feeling.

“i don’t know. give me a minute to think.”

the minute turns into a couple, into five, into ten, and brett realizes they really may not get out of here. still, he watches khail take his phone back, turn the light off and pocket it, and the door to the closet opens slowly.

no one is out in the hall. there’s no footsteps. there isn’t a single person at all - somehow, the stupid fucking closet really saved them. stupid fucking rich people can’t even check the one door in front of them. brett realizes that they are on the second floor, and he finds a window easily in a room that seems to be a random guest room. he opens it, helps khail out first, because they’re god damn old, and follows after slowly. manages to not land on his ankles wrong or knees and scuff up his suit, even. they manage to mingle back in with a crowd out front, none the wiser, and leave in some car khail hotwires while brett keeps a lookout.

the silence stretches as khail drives, something brett is grateful for. he was never a good getaway driver; anxiety gets to the best of him on a normal day, let alone a day where he’s under pressure like that. he doesn’t even notice when khail parks a couple of blocks away from his little shabby home and then they’re walking, shoulder to shoulder, until brett gets to his front door and unlocks it. lets khail in first and follows after, locks his door back up tight like nothing can get them.

which would be funny if brett just worked a normal job and had paranoia. no, he’s probably sure some of the rich dude’s meatheads are gonna find him and rough him up, but that’s fine. tired, autopilot feet bring brett to his bedroom where he sheds his fancy clothes, leaves them dirty and rumpled in a ball by his bed as he climbs into it. brett dozes in and out until he feels khail’s body settle in next to his, dipping the mattress down, and brett lifts an arm for him. khail wiggles on in, nestles in close to the warm body.

they’re not young. they’ll both wake up sweaty and pissed at each other, khail will do a walk of shame in brett’s things, he might get punched a week later by a random stranger, and call brett up about it. brett’ll have a bad back ache for days, mind numbing as he listens to everyone else how he fucked that up, the voices in his mind and the voices in life.

but for now, you know. this is alright. brett will take a hundred of those shitty moments for this one soft, quiet moment with khail.

**Author's Note:**

> please please please don't let khail know about this. please.
> 
> i guess this is fake chop bc idk how else they'd bone. too lazy to figure it out. fake chop is it. maybe i'm back. if not, catch me writing for achievement hunter, my first wife that i left but remarried recently. you can absolutely tell i haven't written in. i dunno. like 3 months


End file.
